The Torturous Curse of Youth
by celticvampriss
Summary: SNK Hogwarts AU. Following the 104th trainees through their sixth year of Hogwarts. The SNK adults are professors. On-going plot with much teenage drama, love and heartbreak, ups and downs, surviving piles of homework with quidditch practice and a social life, this is just a see what happens, no real plan, kind of story centered on these characters in the HP universe. T for lang.
1. How was your Summer?

**A/N: I've had a lot of inspiration to write an Attack on Titan Hogwarts AU. (check out super-sandri on tumblr for some great Hogwart AU fics and headcanons) The title is from Jean's OVA episode, because it sort of fits and I couldn't think of anything. _ Anyway, this is just a thing I want to work on. I don't know how far I'll take it, or even what I'm going to do except that I want to jump around from lots of characters. The main ships in here will be: Jeankasa, Marcomina, Rivetra, Srpingles, Yumikuri, and probably ArminxAnnie. So that's a heads up, in case you like or don't like. Also, those are the ships I ultimately want to achieve, but I might explore exs and break-ups before getting there. I plan to play around with canon elements of the characters (like family life and such) and adjust them to fit this world, while still keeping them in-character. (though some things might change.) This is just a journey through the 104th's sixth year at Hogwarts. Probably lots of relationship drama. Teenage drama. Maybe some serious plot later on. Modern times, but I'm not going to be bringing HP related plot into it. The muggle-born prejudice still exists. As long as I'm inspired I'll write stuff down. (Also, the focus will be on Jean mostly, more than others at least. Because I can.)**

**Chapter One**  
**How was your Summer?**

The train would be leaving in ten minutes. Ideally, he would already be on it, settled and in his preferred cabin—the one in the second to last car with the window that slid up and down without any force—with his bags stowed away. He turned his head side to side, with the force of his mother's grip on his chin, and his scowl was unmasked but also unnoticed.

"Ma, I'm good. I told you." He pulled on her wrist but she was already moving to her next concern, turning him in place so that the platform spun and then stopped in a tilting whirl of color.

"This jacket is so ratty, what are they going to think about humans if I send you to school in rags? Hm? They'll think I don't provide for you. You've already gotten so skinny. Growing right out of your baby f—"

"_Mom_." Jean held out his hands and glanced around to see if she had drawn attention. He continued in a softer tone. "No one is going to care what my jacket looks like. Okay? I won't even be wearing it once I get there. And how many times do I have to tell you that we are not a different species. You can't say 'human' like that, it's kind of offensive."

Ms. Kirstein shooed his words away. "You know what I mean."

He sighed. Maybe two years ago he would have brushed off her worry and slipped from her inspecting hands to board the train early. He couldn't do that now. Not when he felt so guilty for leaving at all.

"Mom, you know I'll write—"

"Can they really not get telephones? I would love to hear your voice every now and then."

Jean put his hands on his hips. "No, they don't use telephones. That kind of technology doesn't work there." His cellphone was in his trunk, where he couldn't see it to miss it. It would take a few weeks before he stopped reaching for it and the phantom presence of the device faded from his right front pocket.

He took in a deep breath. "You'll be okay while I'm gone." It was more a question than an assurance. He honestly didn't know what she did while he was gone. All her letters were about him. Was he eating? Were his classes too hard? Did he make any new friends? Did he get enough sleep? Did he have clean underwear? She ignored every question he asked in his return letters. Even if he insisted, swore, or practically yelled using all capital letters and too much ink, she would still only scribe the most generic of assurances. 'I'm doing well.' 'Of course, I'm alright, everything is fine here.' It pissed him off how selfless she could be about these things.

"Of course I'll be fine. Don't worry about your mother, it isn't natural." She said and he ground his teeth together.

"Just promise me you'll tell me if you're having a hard time." She opened her mouth and he pushed forward, talking over her. "I know you can take care of yourself, that's not what I mean." He met her eyes and the shine of choked back tears made him stop. She didn't like to talk about it. "Look, all I ask is a bit of info so I don't stress out. You don't want my grades slipping because I'm worrying about my stubborn mother."

She smiled, the shimmer of her tears fading, though he suspected they weren't gone. The whistle blew and she swore.

"Mom." His mouth fell open.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't use curses the moment you leave my sight." She wasn't wrong. "Come here. It's too soon. I'm going to miss you. I love you."

She captured him before he could move and squeezed the breath from his lungs before loosening her grip. He didn't bother to check if anyone was watching. "Love you too. I'll be home for the holidays."

The tears started falling, but she cried every time he left, no exceptions in six years. Jean picked up his suitcase so the wheels could roll along the ground and threw the strap to his guitar case over his shoulder. He stopped at the door and waved. He had to force himself to turn away. She was standing alone, behind the other groups of parents and younger siblings. She looked so out of place, without robes or a wand in her pocket, but she refused to act out of place.

Shit. He was supposed to be excited for school, not anxious and upset to leave his fully-capable adult mother alone for a few months. As he marched down the narrow corridor, his guitar case catching on every damn open door or window, he settled every ounce of his blame on the person responsible.

~-0-~

"Don't stare." Mikasa tugged Eren's ear.

"Don't mother me." He snapped, flickering her hand away sharply. He did, however, stop staring at Jean and his mother with a growing smirk.

"Guys, don't start already." Armin groaned. His grandfather was chatting with their mother a few steps away. The three of them were standing around their pile of luggage, ready to board the train. Three large trunks, metal bolted hinges and brass handles, along with cages for Armin's rat, Eureka, and Eren's owl, Snowy. Three guesses on what color the owl was.

Eren crossed his arms and turned his attention to his mother. "We're going to board now. We want good seats."

Carla, sighed and turned sharp eyes on her son.

For all his bluster, he shrunk down a fraction. "Sorry, I mean, excuse me, but can we please board the train now?" He spoke between his teeth, narrowing his eyes at Armin's muffled chuckle.

The goodbyes were quick and the trio picked up their trunks and started for the train. Mikasa lingered behind, glancing at her rival captain. She had told Eren not to stare, but seeing his mother on the verge of tears made her pause. They weren't 'I'll miss you' tears either. Jean seemed to pause, reconsidering his words before continuing. Mikasa averted her eyes and boarded the train quickly.

Eren and Armin were already in the second to last car, picking out the compartment with the easy to use windows. All the others were beginning to stick and the older students that knew about it usually fought for the spot. Mikasa stowed her trunk and sat beside Eren. He was already talking with Armin over a Quidditch magazine, though Armin was merely nodding along.

"Hurry up."

"I _am_."

Mikasa heard the voices close to her spot near the door and craned her head to see. Sasha stopped first and Connie ran into her, both of them tumbling to the floor.

The corridor was too narrow, their twisting and grasping for hand holds did them no good. They were a tangle of limbs and the occasional giggle when someone's elbow hit the right spot. Mikasa got up to offer help, but the whistle blew again right as she tried to speak and then the train jolted as it prepared to move. She had to brace herself on the wall to keep from toppling into their pile.

"Get your hand out of there." Sasha cried. Her face was visible, but Connie's was buried in her hair with hands clasped by her legs so he couldn't reach to fix it.

"I don't even know where my hand is." He said between spitting pieces of her hair from his mouth.

Their position presented a roadblock when Jean wheeled his suitcase up behind them. She tensed, and all her thought during the summer suddenly felt as if they would spill into the open for everyone to know. Which, she wasn't ready for. Not at all. Mikasa ignored the way he filled out the worn leather jacket, the lopsided angle of his shirt over his belt, the way his pants bunched around his sneakers, she ignored him so hard. Jean looked down at the mess, then at Mikasa standing on the other side.

"Do I even want to ask?"

"Jean!" Sasha cried out in relief. "Oh thank Merlin, can you reach my hand?" He tried to pinpoint what was Sasha and what was Connie, until he saw a hand waving frantically from beneath Connie's shoulder. Connie was definitely the one in the jade green skinny jeans and Jean wanted to avoid touching him in any capacity from that angle.

"Yeah." He set down his things and balanced his footing. "Stop wiggling, I fucking see it." He had to lean most of his body over them and then the train pulled forward.

"Shit."

Mikasa covered her lips with her hand, hiding amusement. In an instant, the amiable tangle of two friends escalated into a fury. She couldn't tell who was swearing louder or who was more annoyed, though Jean's voice was more easily distinguished since he was on top.

"Everyone stop moving." Mikasa said, but no one heard her. She shook her head before grasping Jean's collar and yanking. His foot caught Connie's leg and dragged him too, but Mikasa kept dragging until they were all splayed out across the floor, but separated. For a second, they didn't move, but their groans were beginning to harmonize.

Jean sat up first, feeling the back of his jacket for damage. Sasha was next, her hair falling from its ponytail and her denim jacket falling off one shoulder. Connie stilled, continued to lay face down, and was silent.

"Oh man, you guys already had the compartment." Sasha lifted a finger to point inside while Eren and Armin stared through the open door with slack jaws and wide eyes. Mikasa offered a hand to Jean and he took it. When he stood, he was matched in height with her, only an inch difference, and their eyes met in the confined space of the isle.

She pulled her hand away, taking a step back. "You okay?"

He flexed his fingers, but nodded. "Thanks."

Mikasa tucked her hands behind her back, fingers fidgeting. She fought for a way to fix this sudden surge of nerves in her stomach. "Just don't expect the same on the field. I won't go easy on you."

Jean stared at her before a smile began to grow. "Yeah. Wouldn't expect you to."

"Anyway. Good luck this year." She continued.

"I'd say the same to you, but I know how your team plays, Ackerman." His deep voice dipped into playful, as his brown eyes narrowed. "I don't plan making it easy for you this year." When had he moved to invade her space? His hand was pressed flat against the wall, his body leaning toward her.

Mikasa nearly smiled, but resisted. "I guess we'll see."

"Yep. I guess we will."

She blinked and his eyes dipped once, subtly, toward her mouth. Mikasa bit her lip.

"Whoa, do you guys want to be alone?" Connie had finally stood up and he was chuckling when Jean jumped away from her. Connie fanned himself. "You're making it all steamy in here."

Mikasa watched Jean blush and then disappear after picking up his things. She didn't know what to think of him, really. He could easily get tongue-tied and babble like a moron or, just as often, he was causal and friendly. Then the subject would change to quidditch and it was like something igniting. Last year, she was convinced it was simply the passion they both shared for the sport. But a summer of thinking about it had led her to a different conclusion, one that she wasn't entirely sure how to handle. She was only certain about one thing, and that was Jean Kirstein paired with anything quidditch was undoubtedly her weakness.

~-0-~

Jean had found a spot in the very last car, a cabin that smelled musty and had less room between the seats so that tall people couldn't stretch out properly. He grumbled as he stowed his suitcase above and didn't turn when he heard steps behind him.

"Look, I went out and bought a suitcase like yours." Marco was already wearing his robes, black with a maroon and gold tie. He set down a suitcase similar to Jean's proudly. "See, it has the wheels just like yours. And the handle that goes like this." He grabbed the handle near the top and pulled up, confused when he couldn't make it move. "No, but it did go up and down a second ago." He jostled it around until it gave and he stumbled backward, head smacking on the open doorway to the cabin. Still, he beamed triumphantly while rubbing the back of his head.

"It's just a suitcase. It's really not that exciting." Jean lifted his guitar case next and got in place before gesturing that Marco wheel his suitcase over. He lifted it into the storage compartment for him.

"I know, I know. If I'm being honest, the exciting part was buying it." Marco sat down first and Jean followed, frowning when his knees were pushed right up against Marco's. It was stuffy, the air dense and making him sweat. He didn't want to have to take off his jacket and when he tried to slide the window open, it wouldn't budge. Without a second thought he pulled the wand from the inside pocket of his lambskin bomber jacket. The right outside pocket had a hole in it, but he had sewn in the inside pocket to be the perfect concealed wand holster.

He jabbed with his wand hand, incanting aloud, and the window fell open with a crash. Thankfully, the glass hadn't shattered. Sweet air began to stream through the opening, ruffling the ends of his dark blonde hair and allowing him his first sense of calm since boarding the train. The incident with Mikasa didn't count, that was anything but calm.

"Oh." Marco sat up quickly and went to his suitcase, unzipping one side and pulling out a few magazines. "Honestly, I can't get over how much easier they are to use than those bulky trunks I've had to carry around since starting school."

"Are those the new issues of _Quidditch Monthly_?" Jean had read the ones from last season until the pages were falling out.

"Yep. The last three issues." Marco handed them over and Jean began flipping through the pages. "I also got you a _Daily Prophet_…"

Jean took it and tossed it next to him, his eyes never leaving the magazine. "Are you kidding me? Brazil lost against Germany? I would have bet money on Brazil."

"Yeah, it was all anyone could talk about for weeks. Almost a complete shut out." Marco supplied happily. Jean absorbed the months of information he'd missed while living in a two bedroom cottage outside Reading. Marco tapped his fingers over his leg, deciding to push on even though Jean was otherwise distracted. "By the way, how was your summer?"

"Hm? Fine." Jean turned the page. "You?"

"It was nice, actually. I wish we could have organized a visit at some point. Maybe next summer."

Jean looked up briefly. "Yeah, I don't know. I can't really leave…"

"Yeah, I know." Marco paused before continuing carefully, "How is your mom doing?"

Jean's fingers clenched, crumpling the pages in his hand. "She's fine."

"I saw you earlier, but it looked like you were talking about something serious so I didn't want to interrupt." Marco shifted in his seat, his hands in fists against his knees. He approached the topic cautiously, Jean knew that friendly concern was just a part of Marco, but that didn't make his anger any less potent. He bit his tongue to keep from snapping rudely.

"I get it. You don't like talking about it." Marco smiled. "Sorry."

"No, you don't have to apologize. It's not a matter of me wanting to talk about it, it's that I can't without wanting to punch something." Jean let the magazine close.

They swayed back and forth in their seats with the movement of the train. The steady beat of the wheels on the tracks punctuating the silence. Jean started to watch the scenery pass by, since it helped to clear his head. He swallowed, but his throat felt dry. The trolley wouldn't get to them until last and the sun was already far in the west, nearly dipping below the horizon.

"So. What about you and Hannah. You hadn't mentioned her this entire time is everything…" Jean stopped. "Oh. Sorry, man."

"It's okay." Marco waved his sympathy away, smiling. "It was a mutual thing. Just didn't work out."

"You should have wrote me."

"Not the kind of thing I wanted to explain in a letter." Marco said.

Jean smirked, sitting up fully from his slouched position. "That's why you need a cell phone."

"You know my mom won't let me get one. She says they need too much information and they have to send bills to your house." Marco lowered his voice. "And they can track you. Find out where you are. What happens if a cell phone employee walks up to our house and sees me on my broomstick or my mother hanging the laundry with magic?"

"Okay, first of all, calm down. You don't have to actually get one. Second, they _can_ track you, but they won't. I bring mine everywhere." Jean knew that cell phones wouldn't work inside Hogwarts, but Hogsmeade was a different story. He may not get any service all the way out there since wizards didn't care about maintaining cell towers, but that didn't mean he couldn't stick in some headphones and listen to his music.

"I don't know, my mom says that cell phones steal your information and sell it so that people can steal your identity. It's stronger even than Polyjuice potion and…what? Why is that funny?"

"Oh my God." Jean held his sides and Marco couldn't help but smile too.

"I'm going to assume I'm wrong, then."

Jean fell onto his side, ignoring the sudden smell of mildew from the seat as mirth overpowered his other senses. His stomach began to hurt.

"You know, it wasn't _that_ funny."

~-0-~

A few hours later night had fallen completely. The train pulled into Hogsmeade station and Annie threw her bookbag over her shoulder. While everyone else was lugging around trunks she moved easily through the small isles of the train. She wore her Ravenclaw robes with a white hoodie underneath. Her wand was in her pocket and she stepped lightly from the platform and dodged the hesitant first years to reach the carriages.

When she saw the who was in the group waiting to board, she nearly turned around on the spot.

"Oh, hi Annie. How was your summer?" Historia noticed her too quickly, those large doe eyes were more observant than they appeared. With the Historia's greeting, Ymir's head swiveled on her neck, acknowledging Annie with a cold glance. She had an arm resting on Historia's much shorter shoulder and narrowed her eyes as Annie approached.

"Fine." Annie answered quickly as a carriage pulled up. The skeletal winged horses stamped into the ground as they waited to proceed. Annie looked away from them to decline the offer for a seat. Their carriage wasn't yet full, but she didn't really care to join them. The carriage disappeared and she settled into waiting for the next one.

"Hi."

Annie felt a presence behind her shoulder and didn't need to look to know who it was. She nodded, even though her back was to him. "Hey."

They waited for the next carriage together and sat across from each other. Bertolt's robes were above his knees. He'd grown out of his older brother's hand-me-downs last year and now they were even smaller in comparison to his height. Annie would have asked, but she already knew what he would say. 'These robes are fine. I don't need new ones. My younger brother needs medicine more than I need robes.' She pushed the hair back from her eyes and let it fall again.

"Our first trip to Hogsmeade, I'm buying you new robes." She said.

Bertolt opened his mouth and then closed it. "Okay."

Annie nodded and was nearly relieved that they would be the only ones in that carriage when three more students showed up. Great.

"See, Mikasa, there's room." Eren hopped inside, nodding in greeting to Annie and Bertolt. He was the king of obliviousness, Annie reflected. He could waltz through a funeral and not catch on that someone was dead.

Mikasa squeezed next to Eren, pushing Bertolt farther into the corner. Armin sat in the space next to Annie, greeting her with a friendly hello.

"Hey." She replied. Give it a few weeks, she thought. Just a few weeks to feel adjusted. The summer was still fresh in her mind. The home she left had spread into her pores and it would be a while before she could scrub herself clean.

"I would ask how your summer went, but you never answer me when I do." Armin said cheerfully. He gave Annie a smile when she turned to look at him.

"Is everything okay at home?" Eren asked quickly. Armin winced, guilty that he had mentioned it at all.

"Yeah. Peachy." Annie said flatly.

"And how was your summer Bert?" Armin spoke over Eren's response, giving his fellow Ravenclaw a grin. Annie would thank him later for the diversion. Honestly, if she had to respond to Eren just then, she was not going to be nice about it.

The carriage moved with silence from the three Ravenclaws. Annie, Bertolt, and Armin said very little while Eren talked animatedly to Mikasa. Annie was thankful to finally be rid of them once they arrived at the castle.

She found her seat quickly, leaning her face on one hand as she waited for the announcements. She considered skipping it altogether, except that she liked watching the sorting. Even if she couldn't yet join their celebration, she liked being there when her house welcomed new members.

* * *

**A/N: So there's some stuff going on, I plan on expanding on all these characters at some point of the course of this story. So if you're intrigued, then follow and hopefully you'll enjoy what you read. I try.**


	2. Headline

Chapter Two  
Headline

It wasn't even twenty-four hours. It wasn't even the next _morning_. The feast in the Great Hall to welcome in the students had ended a few hours ago and Professor Gunther Schultz, head of Gryffindor house, had been ready to call it a night.

However, the night had other plans as he was roused from sleep by the irate Potions Master.

"One count: out past curfew. One count: theft. Two counts: vandalism." Professor Shadis rattled off the offenses as he led Gunther to the Gryffindor common room. "Got the felons on lock down in the common room awaiting your decision."

Gunther massaged his temple, trying to recall exactly why he'd agreed to be head of house. It was for the love of teaching, he repeated. He cared about the students and he was a proud Gryffindor, why should he say no to being the head of house?

They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady that hid the entrance to Gryffindor's common room and she straightened in her chair. "I've kept the riffraff inside for you, dear. No one has come or gone on my watch." She stated proudly and, if Gunther was seeing properly, she quickly adjusted the low neckline of her bodice, situating her ample chest more prominently.

"Your help is appreciated, ma'am."

The Fat Lady giggled into her hand and Gunther felt his dinner turning in his stomach. "Can we just…get on with this? Please."

"Of course." Shadis squared his shoulders and spoke with his booming baritone so that Gunther couldn't help but crack a smile, "_Flibbertigibbet_."

The Fat Lady giggled again and swung open, to Gunther's relief, to admit them. Inside the air was warm and the fire still crackled confidently in its grate. The maroon and gold tapestries awakened nostalgia every time he set foot inside the common room. He'd fallen asleep at the table in the corner trying to study for an exam he couldn't even remember anymore. He'd celebrated quidditch victories and mourned losses. In the corner, where the light of the fire cast a shadow, his first kiss had been stolen by a charismatic red-head with freckles and a grin. The sconces were dimmed and the room was empty except for the two offenders.

_Of course. It would be these two. _Was his first thought, but upon realizing that they were hanging from the back of their shirts in mid-air his instincts kicked in.

"What are the hell are they doing up there?" Gunther moved quickly, lifting his wand and twirling his wrist so that they eased to the floor.

"These two are slippery. I couldn't leave them to their own devices and they were perfectly safe. Levitation spells never hurt anyone." Shadis replied with his arms crossed as the students slumped together on their knees, leaning into each other.

Braus and Springer. The infamous Gryffindor pranksters. Known for stealing food, hijacking equipment and littering the halls of the school with pranks and booby-traps. Aided and abetted by Peeves the Poltergeist, who flocked the troublemakers like a moth to a blaze. As much as it didn't excuse hanging students by their shirts, Shadis was right, leave them alone and they'd disappear. He'd written them up more than any other student in his house, including Jaeger.

Sasha Braus smiled innocently, though there were still incriminating crumbs on her face. Kitchens again. Though how she could possibly be hungry with a feast that literally supplied as much as you could eat…

"That was some cruel and unusual punishment." Connie Springer pointed toward Shadis. "Of _minors_. I don't know what kind of institution you're running here, but where I come from this is considered abuse. Don't think I won't lawyer up on this, my mom's an attorney so it's free." Connie cleared his throat and Gunther was having trouble following. Connie put his arm around Sasha, smirking like he had won. "I think, given circumstance, we should all look the other way and pretend this never happened."

"Nice try, Springer, but your half-assed negotiations won't save you." Shadis bent down, staring Springer in the eye as the boy fell back to sit on his heels. "And you know those muggle-laws don't apply at Hogwarts, son. You two are looking at expulsion for this one." Shadis was practically giddy, which was an odd emotion for the disciplined professor to wear. Even Gunther was creeped out.

"That's enough, Keith." Gunther sighed. It was too damn late for this. "No one said anything about expulsion—"

"You've got to be shit—"

"Will you please control your language in front of the students?" Gunther snapped. "And _I_ need to know what happened so I can decide the proper punishment."

Shadis shared a glare with Connie. The boy had a spine on him, Gunther admitted. Most students wouldn't be sporting such a cheeky grin when faced with a professor like Shadis out to see him expelled. Sasha was subtly sneaking bites from the food stashed in her robes. Gunther shook his head. The audacity of children would never stop surprising him. He ignored it for the sake of peace while Shadis explained.

"These two were raiding the kitchens. Again. Not even hours after stuffing their faces at dinner."

"Yes, what they ate for dinner isn't part of my jurisdiction. You mentioned vandalism? Can we skip to that part?" Gunther wasn't overly concerned with their sneaking food. Any student who was smart enough to befriend the house elves and find the kitchens deserved a little extra snack for their effort. He certainly had, back in the day. Being out of bed after curfew would earn them detentions, but it was hardly worthy of expulsion.

"Saw them myself. Blew the glass right out of a second floor window. That was after I noticed the tidal wave amassing in the girl's lavatory."

"That part was an accident." Sasha said and crumbs fell into her lap.

"Your last accident." Shadis looked to Gunther, clearly he expected the decision to rule in his favor. His hands were behind his back, posture ridged. From what Gunther knew about him, he'd grown up in a muggle home. A 'military brat,' is how he put it. He had been a seventh year when Gunther was in first, and though he had fully embraced magical life, he hadn't quite left his muggle one behind.

"Is that the end of your report?" Gunther asked.

Shadis blinked, sensing where this line of questioning was headed. "Yes, that's all I can report. But you—"

"Thank you that will be all. I can handle it from here." Gunther met his eyes evenly. He didn't want to disrespect the older wizard, but he was the head of house.

Shadis opened his mouth to protest, but instead clamped it shut. "I'll trust you to make an informed decision. One that takes past offenses into account."

"New year, new start." Gunther replied. He smiled faintly, "get some sleep, Keith. You can give them hell in Potions tomorrow."

"Jokes on you, I only got an Acceptable on my O.W.L.S." Connie said triumphantly. Shadis only accepted Outstanding and Exceeds Expectations in his N.E.W.T. level class and his look was so scathing Gunther thought he might reconsider on the spot, just to see Springer squirm. Gunther wished the boy would keep his mouth shut.

The vein in Shadis's forehead was pulsing as he spun on his heel and disappeared out the portrait hole. Gunther took a breath as the weight of tension was lifted from the room. He had asked Shadis to leave because he didn't want to appear to argue with a fellow Gryffindor teacher, not in front of the students. As professors, they had to stick together, but Gunther had never held such a strict approach to education. At least, he didn't feel it necessary to deal out expulsion for every offense. Besides, he wasn't nearly as frustrating as Ravenclaw's head of house. Professor Zoe left decisions up to no one and each ruling was made using a complex, seemingly arbitrary, system that no other professor could follow. Students both loved and feared Professor Zoe.

"Let's start with points, I'm taking 50 for each of you." Gunther held up his hand when the protests started. The wailing cries of 'no professor' or 'not fair.' "Save it. You two have lost more points for this house than any other student I've known. That's _not_ a compliment."

Sasha and Connie stifled their grins.

"You want to start out another year seeing how much mischief you can get into, that's on you. I'm not expelling you, but you're both going to be writing lines—"

"No!" They said together. The crawled forward on their knees, hands clasped as if in prayer. "Anything but lines. Please. We'll scrub toilets—"

"Exactly." Gunther raised his voice, speaking more sternly. "Punishments are supposed suck. You'll be in detention for the next week, including Saturday and Sunday, writing lines for me. That's not up for argument. I want both of you in my office after dinner." He cringed, this punishment sucked for everyone involved, but he had a responsibility to see it through.

"Yes, sir." They mumbled together.

Gunther sent them to their rooms, confiscating the rest of the food from their pockets. He took the pile of snacks and headed back to his room. He always spent the first week, the week before and after holiday break, and then exams living inside Hogwarts. It was the only part of the job he hated. It necessary for his position, the head of house needed to be on site more often than the other staff. Then occasions like this arose and he knew he'd be spending all his free time for the next week holed up in his office. He'd have to send an owl to Meera in the morning.

The walk to his room shouldn't have been eventful, but a suddenly opened door drew his attention. Gunther looked up just as Professor Levi Ackerman drew it closed behind himself.

"Levi?"

The Defense Professor's hand didn't leave the handle as he stared directly into Gunther's eyes. Gunther had gone through school with Levi. Different houses, but they had been on friendly terms when not competing as opposing seekers in quidditch matches. The room, however, Gunther knew did not belong to Levi.

"Is there a problem?" Levi asked quietly, Gunther sensed some hidden agenda in the question and his eyes continued to waver between Levi and the door that he was 90% sure belonged to Professor Ral.

"No, just some in-house management. Students out after hours." Gunther supplied.

Levi narrowed his eyes. "Is Gryffindor already losing points?"

Gunther sighed, hands on his hips and, despite the circumstances, was happy for the chance to vent a little. "Seems that way. It's Braus and Springer. Sixth years. They've been a handful since first."

"I recall." Levi slipped a step away from the door, still staring Gunther down.

"Look," Gunther started, drained of his strength, "I'm not going to say anything—"

"About what?" Levi spoke quickly, his voice low in his throat. Like a hiss. Gunther had heard of Slytherin's disposition for parselmouths, and it was the first time he'd ever considered its validity. Levi looked ready to strike.

"Nothing." Gunther said quickly. "Nothing. I saw nothing."

Levi nodded and proceeded down the hallway in the opposite direction. Gunther let out a breath. Merlin, how he wished he could go home instead of spending the next week in his cold, dank room. His office was bright and well maintained, but the quarters set aside for him he deliberately kept sparse. He didn't like to think that he lived there.

He opened the door to his room, pushing his shoulder into it when it stuck, and his heart sank at the sight of an empty single bed. There was only the bed, a desk, and a single trunk for his clothes. He started to change, hanging his robes from the hook by the door and stowing his wand on the bedside table near the only framed picture in the room. A woman dressed in a salwar kameez* of deep purple with a narrow face framed by thick black hair gathered into a loose pony tail over her shoulder and a dimpled smile revealing white teeth, was hugging a pair of twin dark haired girls, swinging them around so their eyes closed in mirth and giggles.

Just one more week.

-~0~-

Mikasa followed Eren into the Great Hall. He was still groggy, drifting with his arms hanging in front of him and bumping into things. She guided him firmly to a seat and then sat next to him. Most of the students were already eating, though the Hall was dotted with close knit clumps of students amidst empty sections. The mornings were always more clicky than any other meal. Armin caught her eye from Ravenclaw's table, waving a good-morning with a spoonful of oatmeal half raised to his lips.

She began to fill her own plate with the fresh cut fruit slices: oranges, bananas, and strawberries with a few dots of blueberry. She added a spoonful of vanilla yogurt and stirred. Eren had a hearty plate of eggs, bacon, sausages, hash browns, some sliced cheeses and a pile of buttered toast stacked so that the tower leaned to one side. No one was paying them any attention, just another teenager shoveling food into his face, but Mikasa was still wary of anyone showing too much interest. He was too careless to worry after himself, which annoyed her considering what was at stake. After six years, they had their routine down to a science, but that didn't mean that it was full proof. Any slip up could be catastrophic and she felt her nerves tighten her fingers over her spoon so that it shook.

"Eren Jaeger."

Mikasa's spine straightened, a chill sweeping down it. She knew that voice, the squeaky high-pitch and irritating drawl.

Eren looked up from his food, still chewing with smeared egg on his cheek. "Whaddya need, Hitch?"

The Slytherin girl leaned over the table, her back arching more than was necessary—or so Mikasa felt—as she grinned with that lopsided tilt to her lips that gave the impression she knew a secret you would have to earn. Mikasa and Eren had known her for most their lives. Her mother worked at St. Mungo's with Eren's father. The Dreyse family were a prominent name in the wizardly community, with a long history of powerful influence, and Hitch didn't like anyone to forget it.

"So rude. No 'how are you' or asking after my summer, even for an old friend?" She pouted her lip and Mikasa rolled her eyes.

Eren swallowed his food, then took a long pull of his juice, and wiped it all on the back of his hand. "Sure. How are you?"

Hitch's eye twitched, but she continued jovially. "We had the _best_ time taking a small tour of the America's." She didn't ask about Eren's summer, which Mikasa wanted to call out, but she held her tongue. "Anyway, the reason I wanted to talk to you, which I'm sure you've already heard, is that Mylius and I are taking a break." Mikasa hadn't heard a thing about it and didn't care too.

"Oh. Yeah, I hadn't heard about that." Eren's eyes wandered to the Slytherin table were Mylius Zeramuski was trying to bend a solid metal fork in half with a single hand. Hitch turned Eren's attention back on her with a finger under his chin. "He doesn't seem to be taking it well."

"Yes, but it doesn't really concern me anymore how he feels." She said.

Mikasa glanced between them, at furious Mylius, and suddenly she knew exactly why Hitch was talking to Eren. She'd already held her tongue once, but a second time was pushing it. Mikasa looked over Eren's head so she could get Hitch's attention. "I think you should talk it out with him. He seems like he's more than interested in giving things another go." Mikasa met Hitch's slivery eyes directly. They shared a look of understanding, but with the undercurrent of challenge.

"That's not the point of 'taking a break.'" Hitch said before drawing her eyes back to Eren.

"Look, if you guys need to talk girl stuff then can you not do it with me sandwiched between you?" He raised his shoulders and leaned over his plate.

"But I—" Hitch tried to steer his attention back onto her, but the mail arrived and she swallowed her words down when the flutter of wings and chatter drowned her voice. Mikasa took her copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and paid the owl so it could depart. She was about to set it aside to read later, so that she could continue with the conversation, but the headline caught her eye and her heart skipped painfully.

Death Eaters: Dramatic Movement or Violent Extremists?  
_Death Eater group gains momentum at a demonstration late last night held at the Ministry in response to a press conference by Minister of Magic Balto Wald. Minister Wald's plan to appoint Ilse Langnar, known muggle activist, as a member of his official cabinet was met, generally, with enthusiasm. Many saw the move as a tactical play to gain supporters among the growing muggle-born and half-blood populous, while some did question if the line between wizard and muggle was in fact becoming too blurred. Minister Wald reported that his sole purpose for hiring Langnar was a show of faith and good will. He hoped the appointment would 'soften relations' and 'increase morale.' Many have since suggested that it was a "desperate move by a spineless Minister." It was shortly after the official announcement that a small group of Death Eaters, identities unknown, managed to infiltrate security and send the crowd into a riot. The civilized press release quickly escalated into chaos and those that attempted to combat the radicals, whether it be Aurors or just members of the press trying to calm things down, were met with brutal force. Their normal methods of subdue and disarm were thwarted as defensive spells turned into offensive and then the incantations of Unforgivables rang out above the noise, shocking those that remained and igniting the incident into one of tragedy. Once the fighting settled 14 witches and wizards were rushed to St. Mungo's for immediate care and 2 are confirmed dead. Among them is Ilse Langnar, no doubt the target of the attack, who was killed before she could prove positive or negative for this escalating conflict…_

Mikasa hadn't realized her hands were shaking so severely as she read. The Great Hall was silent, enough for her to hear that she was breathing heavily. She willed her heart to stop racing and she felt Eren press into her shoulder, as he read over her. Dramatic Movement? Did people really still think they were just a bunch of extremists with no power? It was like none of the atrocities they'd commited before were of any concern, except now they involved the minister. Now they were serious and now they were a threat. Death Eaters had been growing and expanding for years, decades. These people were monsters in closets and no one wanted to believe they were really in there once you turned the light on. Mikasa wanted to tear the paper in half. These reporters knew _nothing_ of what was actually happening. How far this cause was beginning to reach. If anyone at the ministry had any sense they would put a stop to this before it turned into a war.

"Mikasa Ackerman."

Mikasa jumped, the paper crumpling under her hands.

Professor Ackerman held out a white sheet of paper, staring at her expectantly. Mikasa didn't understand until her mind caught up to her eyes and she took her class schedule from his hand. Their eyes held for a minute before he noticed the mangled paper in her fist, or maybe he already had and was just letting her know. There was a moment where she thought he understood. The same anger that she felt darkened his eyes, but it was gone so quickly she could have imagined it. She knew nothing about him other than he was her least favorite teacher—that included Professor Shadis—and that he used to be a member of Slytherin when he was in school. Without a word about it he left and continued to pass out schedules. What the hell had that been about? She wished she didn't care, but the circumstances had her thoughts spinning.

Mikasa's world returned to sharp clarity slowly. She'd been lost in her own mind for a minute and as her fear faded, the din of the great hall rose back to a dull roar in her ears. Eren was watching her carefully, his food forgotten and probably cold. Hitch caught her eye and then glanced away. She walked back to the Slytherin's table without another word.

"Give me that." Eren snatched the paper from her hand. He opened it and started reading the first article he saw silently before stopping after a minute. "What kind of reporting is this? An exclusive interview from Dion Waters and it's pushed to the third page? This is a travesty. Isn't it Mikasa?"

She opened her mouth, but settled for a nod.

Eren huffed. "Damn right it is. The nerve of these people." Mikasa watched him fold the cover backward and start to pull it separate from the bulk of the newspaper, covertly. It was cute that he thought she didn't notice. When the front page was completely free he crumpled it in his hand and stuffed it in his pocket while he returned the remaining pages of the Prophet to her. "I don't know why you read this thing. Connie could do a better job reporting this stuff."

Mikasa smiled, though her adoptive brother couldn't see it. He stood up and she saw him stop over someone's half-finished glass of pumpkin juice and toss the balled up article into it. He motioned for her to get moving, feigning agitation at her delay. "Let's go. We've got Transfiguration up first."

She got up, but left her paper on the table. She considered stopping her subscription to the _Prophet_ completely. Yet she couldn't shake the idea that she might miss something important. Mikasa hesitated before leaving and she felt another shudder run through her. She swallowed the fear, the panic that threatened to destroy her, and ran to catch up with Eren.

* * *

**A/N: For the purposes of this story, Death Eaters exist, but there is no Voldemort. I don't plan on that being a big part of this story, but it will add a touch of outside world drama to it. There are lots of backstory pieces I plan on getting to, like Mikasa's reaction to the article, Levi's reaction to the article, and other things. I want to make full use of SNK background characters, while trying to give them depth. I sort of have a lot of ideas and a lot of relationships and plot points I want to explore. Like I said, lots of drama to come. **

***Please forgive me if I didn't use this right, I looked up traditional Indian dress and ultimately chose the _Salwar Kameez. _But I know only what limited wikipedia articles and a few internet searches could tell me. **


End file.
